MJ: Obviously, the production design provides a huge contrast between Wuthering Heights and Thrushcross Grange, and I was wondering what kind of conversations you had with Emerald to sonically delineate the two? Because the Thrushcross tracks are so much lighter and more magical, compared to the darker, sinister tones of the Heights—how did that develop in your conversations?
AW: Yeah, Emerald really loved the idea of these two distinct worlds. The thing with Thrushcross is that it had to be intriguing, like a box of chocolates, but that actually ultimately it’s all surface. It doesn’t fulfill Cathy. So we wanted to make sure that as beautiful as Thrushcross is as a place, that emotionally it can’t satisfy Cathy. Therefore, the music with Heathcliff has more yearning, and a more emotional connection.
With the Heights, Emerald definitely wanted something unsettling and more unforgiving. The Wuthering music had to tie into Earnshaw (Martin Clunes) where her father is a trigger for her—one moment he’s jovial and the next he’s really got under her skin. And that comes back when she goes to see him at Christmas, and he’s back to that same taunting. So yeah, they’re very different palettes.
In the Heights, one of the things I was proud that we did was we put the yearning b-section from the main theme, very slow and kind of twisted, as the camera pans back on the building. It’s fractured amongst the different parts of the string section, so it is a sign of the tragedy to come.
MJ: There are two tracks near the start—“Kindest Man Alive” and “Very Important Family”—that use kind of discordant thrumming and drumming in a dark/sinister way, also very foreboding and portentous. How did you build these two tracks?
AW: Emerald liked the idea of Earnshaw riding out to the pub where he drinks and gambles, and of course, we’ve just had the hanging scene, so we both liked the idea of tying in the sound of this foreboding hanging drum. Earnshaw going out is of course nothing new for Cathy, but she’s just been to her first hanging. So she’s in a particularly vulnerable state, she’s just learned about things that are changing her. So the drum connecting her to that nightmare was something that Emerald really liked the idea of.
And there’s these kind of grunting, visceral cellos, and we did some strange, scraping bowed guitar—stuff that sounds like a perversion of a folk palette really was what Emerald was interested in. The strings are intimate, you can feel the kind of tactile touch of the playing, and the sliding, twisting, slow version of part of the theme—that was a big part of it. Then we wanted a more playful version of it for “Very Important Family,” where it comes back to this prideful Earnshaw feeling, using banjos and this slightly perverse folk sound.
MJ: At what stage did you know that you’d be working around the concept album by Charli xcx, and how did you find the process of composing tracks around her songs, which play a big role in the film’s soundscape?
AW: Emerald and her amazing producer Josie did mention when I went to set that Charli was going to write some stuff. These creative moments are always interesting when you start out with an idea of something that might happen, and of course, you don’t know quite where it will lead, but Charli then just wrote all these incredible tracks, so Emerald was exploring them in the edit.
Ultimately when she settled on Charli’s track “House” for the opening, we really liked that dark, folky, slightly ritualistic feel, but it needed a bit more scope for the scene with the size of the crowd, so I added a kind of ritualistic folk rhythm over the top of it, and some low choir, and some low harps and tubular bell. Sounds that are a bit more idiomatic to a classic hanging scene. But really the essence of the track did so much, of course John Cale’s narration was really interesting, his poem that is a big part of the track too. So it was just adding some orchestration and scope to it, especially when the camera pans back and you see the house for the very first time from a distance, so that was really fun.
And a lot of her tracks just worked really well as they were. “Open Up” was absolutely beautiful and went into the film very easily. Actually what was lovely about “Open Up” is that we did an instrumental reprise of it, where I added some strings. I think emotionally that’s a big link between the score and the final act, as you’re heading into the final act, we bring “Open Up” back as an instrumental when Heathcliff leaves for the second time, and that was lovely, such a beautiful song. And Charli’s producer Finn Keane was so great, he would send us different versions of songs to work with. So Finn and I talked quite a bit. Of course Charli, as a major pop star, was doing a thousand things, but she also did some really interesting extra breathing on “House” and interesting layers that were very useful.
One of the really fun ones to get right was actually the moment that “Funny Mouth” appears. It’s such a good song, it’s both seductive but really quite dark, and it has some really interesting chord changes in it too. There’s the moment when Heathcliff turns around and they kiss for the first time, which uses my main theme, where they’re kissing in the Needle’s Eye—where they first bond as children. It cuts back to Nelly (Hong Chau) and Cathy, and Nelly says, “Does he know that you’re pregnant?” and there’s the decision that Cathy proceeds with this affair, so it had to have a dark longing to it. “Funny Mouth” just had such an interesting tone, getting the transition into that was quite a fun challenge, but it’s such a great track.
MJ: “Kiss Me and Be Damned” is the pivotal scene where Cathy and Heathcliff finally kiss for the first time, and acknowledge their feelings for one another. It has to be romantic, but you definitely still keep the sadness there—how did you manage that balance?
AW: Yeah, that was really what Emerald wanted, she wanted to live right in this space between hope and despair. So, starting with this hopeful yearning as children, and that’s a really interesting place to take it because the audience knows that Emerald is doing something different with the film. There will be unexpected things, so we wonder: How is this going to unfold? Is it ultimately going to allow for more of a union between the two lovers than the book allows? Similarly, in Ian McEwan’s Atonement (adapted into a film in 2007), you think they’ve had this life together and then it’s so gutting when you realize that was all just an atonement through the book. So, yeah riding that line between an ethereal sound and a more haunted sound. A lot of that comes from holding back.
In the case of “Kiss Me and Be Damned,” that is a departure from the book. That moment in the book, Heathcliff leaves. So Emerald wanted this to be a very special moment where it definitely does err on the side of slightly more ethereal. But the theme was really designed to do that, especially in the b-section and the chords, the melody goes down and the chords go up. So you get this kind of conflict and a lot of descending leans in the melody that give you that sense of finality. It’s a piece that’s constantly trying to ascend, but it never quite gets there, it always comes back down.
MJ: The whole finale [last four tracks] is completely heart-wrenching. How do you decide what to reach for (e.g. cellos, the minor key) that you know will just have a shattering effect on the audience?
AW: I mean that final act was such a career highlight, as I mentioned when we were recording it with Emerald and Margot there. It was such a gift, as a composer, to have. I think, with just a few small pauses, it’s around 14 minutes in the film, almost non-stop. It really had to be worked out as a whole. I started working on it reasonably early in the process, because it was ultimately the emotional bedrock of the whole film.
It was a tough nut to crack, because it all had to be conceived in one journey. One fundamental feeling had to be able to tie it all together. From the moment of Nelly going to Wuthering Heights all the way through to Heathcliff saying, “haunt me then, drive me mad,” I played it through all at once and was like “OK this is gonna work, this emotionally connects as one experience.” You need to make sure it’s in the right key and the right register, and most of all the right pace. It needed some pace to underpin the riding and the sense of urgency that Heathcliff has to get to Cathy, but also this slow yearning and relentless changing of the chords.
I think Emerald and I knew that the corridor had to connect, we knew that this sense of flow had to connect through to when Heathcliff walks upstairs into the house. But I think we both knew that on that very first shot of the house, we needed the ring out of the previous section, and just a moment of silence, and wondering what’s going to happen next. Then the score creeps back in, picking up back where it left off, and the cello solo plays at its most vulnerable and intimate as he’s walking down the corridor. I think there’s a version of it, still at that moment, we’re sort of edging what might happen. Because we haven’t seen Cathy yet, as the audience, so again it’s riding this tone of “is this about to flourish into a really beautiful piece, or is it going to turn?” And actually we do turn really dark. The cello solo disappears up into these quite ethereal, ghostly harmonics that are almost like an organ as you see her lying there. Yeah, it was really special to work on it. In a way, recalling the journey with you gets me quite emotional myself.
Emerald has these important moments of hallucination in the sequence, the most dramatic, large-scale moment in the score is as Heathcliff is riding, and then the score settles down, and you see Heathcliff with Cathy, and then, similar to Atonement, there’s the gutting realization that he didn’t make it. That was such a crucial anchor to hit because that’s what makes the next scene so devastating, that she never knew he was coming.
Then we get this final runway to the incredibly famous Emily Bronte lines and you get the coda of the theme, which you don’t hear that much with the most yearning section. I mentioned earlier the theme going down and the chords rising against it. Well here in the coda, the theme goes up as well as the chords into this more transcendental state when we hear those famous lines. We went bigger with that than maybe I expected, but Emerald was sitting next to me as I was doing it, and it was a really special moment where we were really feeding off each other. I was reacting to her, and she was reacting to what I was doing. I think in career highlights, if I never worked again and somebody asked me what my favorite moment working with a director was, I’d say it was that, right there.
MJ: I want to ask about my favorite track “I Will Wait for You,” which is basically a reprise of C&H from the start—how did you go about developing a sound that would evoke young Cathy & Heathcliff and then referencing that at the end to destroy our emotions?
AW: Thank you, it’s my favorite as well, and actually, I’m really glad it’s that moment. It’s also Jacob’s beautiful dialogue over the top (Heathcliff’s letters to Cathy), and that little soundbite has got I think 2,000 videos on TikTok—that’s the bit people have attached to. It was really important that, structurally, Emerald really wanted to build this bond as children. So “C+H” is about them making this promise to each other that they will be there for one another, no matter what. And it was really important that that would come back at that pivotal moment. It’s so devastating that scene because he’s writing these letters and she’s thinking about him, but she’s not getting them. So for Emerald, those two moments were the places where the theme needed to work. And you know, the photography is so devastating there, as Cathy’s hand is reaching out for him.
It’s an important runway for the film, where we’ve been in this really dark place where Heathcliff’s gone off with Isabella (Alison Oliver), and then the moment of the letters—“I Will Wait for You” has to prepare us for what’s coming, emotionally. And for me, the most important bit is when you see Cathy sitting on the bed and she’s imagining young Heathcliff holding her ankle—so that bit was really special to get right. In retrospect, I think what Emerald liked about it was that it almost felt like an old English hymn, almost something you could brush the dust off, speaking to the timeless nature of the story. That’s what she really liked about [it], and it had this plaintive quality, like calling out desperately, like a prayer.
What was useful about that theme was that we could in some places remove the theme altogether, and just have the chords, and it would tell the story. That’s what I love about a good piece of music, when the chords themselves take you on that journey. There’s a moment when Cathy has essentially stood Heathcliff up, and then she tells him, “We have to stop this affair, we can’t do this anymore,” and he comes to her in the garden, and we reprise “C+H” there as well, but it’s just the chords. It comes back to this idea of Edgar (Shazad Latif) knowing that he’s never, ever going to be able to compete with this timeless love. And so hearing that kind of hauntingly in the garden was a really fun discovery. The journey of the chords was very useful for the story.
MJ: “Be with Me Always” references “Dark Eyed Sailor” at the end—so you’ve got the folk influence as well as the Charli songs. This was always going to be one of the most important tracks as it’s the culmination of the film—how do you think the score as a whole builds to this track, as the finale?
AW: It’s such a beautiful traditional folk melody, and Olivia Cheney does her version of it as songs when Cathy goes to get married and she’s thinking about Heathcliff, and then when he finally comes back (after 5 years away)—that as a bookend was really great. Emerald loved the idea of using the traditional melody, at its most innocent and most pure, just on a simple piano with one hand, no embellishments. Just very soft folk viola strings around it that then build into this very grand ending. She was so clever to use that song, so I loved doing our version of it at the end.
And it really comes from this place of innocence—Owen (Cooper) and Charlotte (Mellington) who so brilliantly play younger Heathcliff and Cathy, they just have this very tender innocence to them and that’s what that piece really captured on the piano. The idea that in a different time, if things had gone differently, this is where we might have ended up. It was tricky to craft how it unfolded, but it seems to have worked well with audiences. If no one had cried until then, we generally get them at that moment. (Fiona Underhill)
The hairs on the back of my neck tingle as I stare at the mourning bracelet once worn by Charlotte Brontë. Its purple-red garnet glimmers from the centre of a band woven with the hair of her sisters, Emily and Anne. Moments before, while touring the other displays of the Brontë Parsonage Museum, I’d eyeballed the sofa where Wuthering Heights author Emily Brontë lost her life to tuberculosis, aged just 30. Museum volunteers around me chat about Emerald Fennell’s Wuthering Heights film adaptation and one tells me some 500 visitors walked through these doors a day after the film’s release – close to double the numbers they received over Valentine’s Day weekend last year.
In 2026, many travellers will be set-jetting across the Yorkshire Dales to see where Margot Robbie and Jacob Elordi acted out the latest film’s tempestuous scenes. But after a surge in sales of the original novel, there will be others, like me, who’ll flock to Haworth for a Brontë inspired literary tour, with the Brontë’s parsonage home at its heart. The mourning bracelet that captures my attention inspired the replica Robbie wore to the film’s premiere. The surrounding village and moorlands, meanwhile, make up Brontë Country, the real inspiration for Wuthering Heights.
It doesn’t take long for me to pull on my hiking boots and make for Haworth Moor. It’s here where the Brontës would roam with their dog Grasper, playing “brigands and bandits” and these wild, heather-clad heights instantly take me back to my Yorkshire childhood.
From Penistone Country Park, just outside the village, I ramble along sodden, rock-strewn bridleways to reach the ale-coloured Brontë falls that gushes into Sladen Beck. I stand on its so-called “Brontë Bridge” beside skeletal trees and spot “Charlotte’s stone” where the namesake author purportedly sat. The ascent from here, past boggy ferns and dilapidated dry-stone walls, takes me to the loftier heights of Top Withens. Although the now-demolished Gothic High Sunderland Hall in Halifax was the apparent inspiration for the Earnshaw’s home, this ruined farmhouse is believed to have inspired Emily’s Wuthering Heights setting. Thrushcross Grange was possibly inspired by nearby Ponden Hall. There’s a beauty to the bleakness up here, even when an icy squall freezes my cheeks during the descent.
My stay in Haworth is Steam View Cottage, a stone’s throw from Haworth’s Grade II-listed Central Park. Its claw-foot bath provides post-hike soaks, and two of its bedrooms cocoon guests beneath third-floor eaves. In the living room, the owner has filled a dresser with an array of Brontë books and from the cottage windows, I spot the Keighley & Worth Valley steam train – of The Railway Children fame – tooting through the valley.
A short walk from here is the steep cobbled Main Street where traditional millstone grit shops and inns, blackened by the soot of the 19th century’s textile mills, speak to Haworth’s industrial past. There are nods to the Brontës at every turn: the shop where Emily bought her stationary; the Barraclough clockmakers (now the Hawthorn restaurant) that made the Brontë’s grandfather clock, and the Black Bull inn where punters sip Brontë-themed ales and snap the ill-fated Brontë brother Branwell’s chair. Those keen to flex their writing skills can attend author’s talks at the Wave of Nostalgia bookshop or check out the Brontë Writing Centre that holds courses throughout the year.
At the top of the street is the parsonage, housing the largest collection of Brontë family artefacts and now opening six days a week in response to its rise in popularity. Next door is the old school room which Patrick Brontë, a champion for education, helped build. My favourite stop is the Old Post Office where the sisters once sent off their manuscripts to publishers under the pen names Currer, Ellis and Acton Bell. It’s now a characterful café where I savour a breakfast bap and Yorkshire brew, paid for over the original Victorian counter. I also visit St Michaels and All Angels’ church to see the Brontë Family Vault where all members of the Brontë family – except Anne – are buried.
In the nearby village of Keighley, I head to East Riddlesden Hall, a gothic 17th-century farm manor that instantly evokes Wuthering Heights vibes. It was saved from demolition and gifted to the National Trust by the Briggs family who helped form The Brontë Society in 1893.
Inside, its Lights, Camera, Brontë: East Riddlesden Hall on Screen exhibition (free with the £7 venue entry), spotlights the many Wuthering Heights adaptations filmed here. This includes the now-lost 1920s silent drama whose original screenplay is on display. I see the atmospheric Great Hall, with its deep-set fireplace, that inspired filmmakers of the 1992 adaptation, starring Ralph Fiennes (they created a near-exact replica up on the moors). Many believe the room’s 17th-century oak dresser, brought here from Ponden Hall, could be the “pewter-bearing dresser”, from the original book.
My last stop is The Brontë Birthplace, Thornton, on the outskirts of Bradford. This was where Patrick Brontë spent “my happiest years” from 1815-1820 while serving as curator at the nearby, now-ruined, Bell Chapel. Queen Camilla officially opened the home as a Community Benefit Society-run museum after a nine-month restoration last May (self-guided tours from £6.50).
As general manager Anna Gibson shows me around its Regency-styled rooms, she points out horsehair from the building’s original plasterwork and a fireplace in the family parlour, (now the museum café), in front of which the four youngest Brontë children were reportedly born.
I can’t wait to tell my friends about the upstairs en suite rooms – named, you guessed it, Charlotte, Emily and Anne – where guests can now stay. I sleep in Charlotte’s room, now furnished with a plush four poster bed draped in pink and gold Jacquard style bedding; a chaise longue and pictures of Charlotte and her father. It feels quite surreal to imagine that all six of the Brontë siblings once slept here. And it feels like an apt ending to a journey that proves the Brontës’ literacy legacy is still going strong, some 200 years on. (Lucy McGuire)